


Dragon Courtship

by Aristathelia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Dragon Castiel, Dragon courting, Dragon!Cas, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-07 16:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristathelia/pseuds/Aristathelia
Summary: He had known Cas was a dragon, a completely different species to him, but had only ever thought about it in an abstract sense. He had seen those ragged obsidian horns, those slitted blue eyes that lit up like the base of a flame, and those scales that seemed to shimmer from just under his shirt sleeves, dark and iridescent like a boulder opal. He knew that Cas could flit in and out as he pleased and that when he abruptly departed it sounded like a large sheet of leather unfolding. The occasional hiss and growl he used as an accent to his words were probably a good reminder too.





	1. Chapter 1

When Dean first saw Castiel’s wings it came as a complete surprise. He had known Cas was a dragon, a completely different species to him, but had only ever thought about it in an abstract sense. He had seen those ragged obsidian horns, those slitted blue eyes that lit up like the base of a flame, and those scales that seemed to shimmer from just under his shirt sleeves, dark and iridescent like a boulder opal. He knew that Cas could flit in and out as he pleased and that when he abruptly departed it sounded like a large sheet of leather unfolding. The occasional hiss and growl he used as an accent to his words were probably a good reminder too. 

So even though Dean knew about Cas, about his species, he had never seen how immense the creatures, and thus Castiel, could be. Until a particular hunt. 

Dean had thought it would be simple, a salt and burn, nothing to worry about. It was an ‘in and out’ job, old hat. That was why he had rolled into town, done his exploring and minimal research, and then went after the ghost alone. He hadn’t expected a crazed poltergeist. 

In the thick of it, Dean remembered praying, his back to a wall, dinner tray up in front of his face to fend off the projectiles shattering against the wall around him. Dinner plates, vases, decorative ceramic bowls crashed and splintered in all directions. When the sudden sound of scraping on concrete met his ears he tensed, before quickly lurching himself sideways to avoid what he knew would be the piano that had been stood against the back wall beneath the bay window. 

The large instrument never hit the wall, however. With a loud thud, the sound of jarred piano keys and a wailing screech the deep freeze in the room dissipated and Dean found himself finally able to look past the dented dinner tray in front of his face. The black mass he was met with startled him and had him stumbling his way to his feet. Two gigantic black leathery wings stretched the width of the entire room, shielding Dean from what looked to be the wreckage of what once was the piano. 

Piano keys littered the floor, black and white interspersed with splintered wood and shattered china. Castiel knelt amidst it all in the middle of the room, his immense wings wrapped around him and the remnants of a fierce snarl on his darkly handsome face.

Dean approached Castiel slowly, skirting around one of the unfolded wings to put a reassuring hand on Cas’s shoulder, frowning when the man, the creature even, jumped slightly under his touch. Castiel had looked ferocious and imposing, but in just one touch he seemed to shrink, wariness settling into his form. His intense blue eyes swung to Dean’s face - pupils thin and wavering - the colour flickering like the Bunsen burners they used in school. Dean took a hesitant step forward. Whatever had tensed on Castiel’s face during the fight gave way under a rush of relaxation when Dean moved his hand smoothly from shoulder to wing, his fingers gliding smoothly over the thick, dark flesh. It was smoother than it looked, thick and scaled along the bones with downy sheets of flesh between them. 

When Dean finally came back to himself - after way too long zoning out - both of his hands were on Cas. One was spread out and petting a wing, as though Cas was simply an overgrown, scaly cat. The other seemed to be itching to bury itself in Castiel’s dark hair, and avoided it only by settling in a firm grip on the back of a lightly scaled neck. 

Though the fight had ended, and the poltergeist dissipated, tension seemed to flow quickly back into Cas’s body. The tensed muscle beneath Dean's hand vibrated like a freshly plucked harp string, singing with tension. Dean tensed, eyes wide. He couldn’t see Cas’s face anymore and couldn’t remember when Cas had averted his eyes, but he feared he had gone too far. He didn’t know what had come over him. It had started as a need to reassure, calm and thank his friend and had ended with him ...absentmindedly groping his best friend. Dean remembered the fleeting need to dominate taking over him, the urge to sink his hand into thick hair and pull and he had to actively stop himself from leaping away as if burned in reaction. As it was, he simply dropped his hands and stepped away, looking anywhere but at his friend, still kneeling on the floor. 

When a claw-tipped hand gripped his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin. The fact that he could now see the huge wings unfurling outward gave him some measure of comfort as the familiar feeling of flight, a lot like vertigo, tugged at him. Before he knew it he arrived back at the motel.

The room itself was one of the worst he had stayed in this year with its peeling wallpaper and its pungent aroma of cigarettes and regret. The lone bed against the far wall was dressed with sheets that had obviously been overly washed, the colour faded to grey with horrendous splashes of lime green. The beds mattress had long ago begun to sag in the center. There was a small scuffed table, a box television mounted on the wall, and a marked door that led to a small and dirty bathroom. 

The only reason the place didn’t make his skin crawl was that he had seen, and stayed in, worse. Castiel should never have set foot in the place and Dean suddenly felt very dirty for being the reason Cas was there. 

Dean snapped from his self-deprecating thoughts as the grip on his shoulder shifted, and long fingers settled around the back of his neck. To his embarrassment his knees weakened as Castiels’ fingertips brushed innocently through the short-clipped hair at his nape. After a somewhat reassuring squeeze Cas let his hand drop and growled out a goodbye before he disappeared in a whirl of black.  

Dean collapsed on to the bed, his body overheated and his legs tingling. 

...

Whatever naivete Dean had before that day, in regards to Cas’s species or form, popped like an errant thought bubble. Though Cas seemed to get them both out of there pretty quickly once Dean took hold of his senses and removed his hand, an awareness had settled between them. Mostly on his part, Dean thought, though he couldn’t help but notice changes in Cas’s behaviour following the incident. 

The dragon seemed to ignore his plea for personal space more than usual, choosing to stand impossibly close to Dean whenever he had the chance. More than once, Dean had tensed in surprise as a wingtip caressed the back of his neck, usually as a prelude to Castiel's departure. Every now and then Castiel would drop a heavy hand between his shoulders and stroke up comfortingly, after a fight or a loss, before squeezing softly around his nape. It always had the same effect, a kind of bone melting relaxation coupled with hot spikes of pleasure that left tingles spreading down his back. The feel of claw tips gently scratching up through the back of his hair was one of the best feelings Dean had encountered in a while, and while he tried his best to hide his reaction to the errant touches from his best friend, he didn’t think he managed to do it very well. Castiel always seemed to leave with a subtle but gentle smile on his lips and a rose hue to his cheeks. 

It continued for months. The soft touches became more frequent, easier to notice, and more accepted if Sam's reaction to it was any indication. The throat clearing stopped, eyerolls diminished to nothing and eventually Sam barely reacted at all, except with the occasional smile. 

Then the gifting started. At first it was small, innocuous. Cas showed up with more gauze, sutures and numbing alcohol. He showed up with pie, spread his fingers through Dean's hair, and then left. Dean was left shaking, pie in hand in an empty motel room and feeling flush all over. Next came burgers, fries and beer. And eventually it all culminated in Castiel showing up one evening, while Sam was at the library, with a bottle of whiskey in hand and to Deans shock, a flower in the other. After a questioning look Cas grinned, showing fang, handed the pink tigerish flower over and rattled off a latin name. After a long look Cas smiled more gently and roughly murmured, “It is a flower to symbolise wealth and friendship, sometimes called a Peruvian Lily.”

“Wealth? Buddy, I don’t have much of that,” Dean replied airily, flashing a grin before taking the bottle from his friend and going to the side for some glasses. He poured a drink for himself and Castiel, handing the drink over. As an afterthought he grabbed another cup and filled it half full of tap water, dropping the stem of the flower into it before setting it on the small table. The soft look he got from Cas after that made him squirm inside so he downed his glass of whiskey, appreciated the burn and refilled it. 

It was rare for Castiel to stick around between jobs so Dean had no idea what to do, other than what he usually did. The small tv was on, showing repeated episodes of some spanish drama. Dean found himself watching and only slightly paying attention. His fifth glass of whiskey was warming him from the inside, Castiel was a solid presence at his side, also cradling his fifth glass and seeming the more sober of the two. Dean didn’t even know if Cas could get drunk. 

After a while though Dean found himself leaning towards the heat at his side. The solid pressure of Cas’s arm against his calmed him like whiskey never could and he found himself relaxing further into the pillow at his back. He and Castiel had kicked off their shoes after the second glass and settled on the bed, their backs to the wall. The trenchcoat had come off after glass three, after some insistent prodding, the suit jacket after glass four. It was the most undressed Dean had ever seen him and he found himself looking over the small amount of skin revealed. The soft black/blue scales he sometimes glimpsed where a little more visible without the collar of the coat in the way. He saw the glint of them at the base of Cas’s neck, his wrists, and when he moved to remove his coats, he saw the black also graced the curve of the dragons hipbones. 

After that, the warmth of the whiskey spread more fully through him. Cas had pulled another bottle out of nowhere so the casual drinking continued. Dean had begun to feel fuzzy. Every now and then he would catch Castiel’s eye and found that the dragon could indeed get drunk. A softness had calmed the rugged set of his face, the blue of his eyes almost like fire in the dim room. 

After a while Sam came back, smiling at the inebriated pair and delivering burgers like the food god that he was. Dean gave him an enthusiastic hug and devoured his food with excited relish as Castiel watched with a soft affectionate look on his face. 

After the food Castiel stood, donning his coats again like a set of armour. Sam disappeared into the bathroom after bidding Cas goodnight and Cas nodded back in reply but before he left he turned to Dean. Dean grinned as Castiel neared him, alcohol making him loose and open like Cas had never seen before. So Castiel approached without fear. His hand found its way back to its favourite place, against the soft skin of Dean’s neck, claws rasping at short hairs as Cas pulled himself down. He had a second to notice the surprise on Dean's face, the breath that rattled out of him before Cas leant in and grazed his cheek against Dean's temple. 

Then Castiel was gone and Dean was left sat on the bed with the phantom feeling of stubble against his temple and uncomfortably tight trousers. He had initially had the crazy thought that Cas was going to kiss him and he’d been more okay with that then he expected. He’d always looked at Cas differently but the new physically affectionate touches had him looking closer at how he felt. 

His introspection was cut short by Sam reentering the room, toweling his shaggy hair off like some kind of bathed dog. Dean tugged off his tee and threw it at Sam, grinning when it earned him a wet bitch face in return. 

That night he slept like a baby.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two up very quickly, three will probably follow soon too.

After the night of drinking, and the affectionate goodbye, Cas had stuck around a lot more than usual. The gifts had continued. More flowers, with their latin name and meaning explained in detail. More medical supplies, more food ...more booze. The neck squeezes had continued but he hadn’t leant in again and ...nuzzled him like he had that day. Dean didn’t know how he felt about that. The touch had been intimate, rough but tender in a new way Dean had never felt. Stubble, for one thing, was not something he was accustomed to on others. Especially against his face.

The gifts confused him though so one morning he cornered the dragon. 

“Cas, Buddy, you know you don’t have to keep bringing us things, right?”

Cas’s face crumpled. He looked crestfallen all of a sudden and it made Dean's heart hurt in a sudden throb of feeling. His hands fitted against the sides of Cas’s face, palms soft against the roughness of Cas’s cheeks, fingertips touching the base of his horns and Cas’s eyes sparked at that. The blue intensified and his pupils widened in a rush as he tilted his head into the touch. An unexpected grin crossed Dean's face. 

“I didn’t know you could feel when things touched them,” Dean murmured gently, his fingers moving back and forth around the base of them. Whatever Cas could feel was doing crazy things to his eyes. The pupil was wavering, flame-like blue flickering as Castiel’s long black eyelashes fluttered gently. “You can keep bringing us things if you want, man. I didn’t know it meant something to you. But know that you don’t have to do it to stick around, we like you with us.”

He didn’t know if Cas even heard him, since his eyes had closed but he could see the blue glow through the crack between his eyelids. A low noise had started in Cas’s throat, like a rhythmic rumbling and Dean grinned when he noticed it. 

“Are you purring, Buddy?” 

Castiel’s eyes opened at that and his pupils shrunk in a rush, the noise died as quickly as it had started and Cas stepped back, Dean's hands dropping from his face and his horns. Dean frowned and put his hands up, palm out when Cas’s wings tucked around himself. 

“Hey, Cas! Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t know. Am I not supposed to touch them? I thought… I’m really sorry, Bud.” Dean took another step back and dropped his hands, rubbing his fingers together absentmindedly to remove the feeling of roughness against his skin. Cas had looked so content, his face relaxed in a new way that Dean hadn’t seen before. And that purr had rocked through him and buzzed through his hands. 

He had thought that with all the touching recently that Cas wouldn’t mind a little reciprocation. He was obviously wrong, very wrong if the way Cas had shrunk back meant anything. Maybe it was a dragon thing, since it was his horns, or maybe the guy didn’t like to be touched? Dean remembered the feel of wing beneath his hands, the texture fleshy yet velvety and he frowned. 

“Cas, if you don’t want me to touch you, that’s fine. Just let me know, okay? Y-You don’t have to stop what you do to… to me. I’m so sorry I touched you,” Dean whispered. He kept his voice low, soft, his hands down. Cas’s wings had started unraveling halfway through Dean's mumblings and he pulled them back slowly, letting them fold back. Cas looked torn, a deep frown creasing his face and feeling in his eyes. A pointed tongue flickered out to lick dry lips and Dean cast aside his questions about that, putting them in a box for later. 

“Dean, I’m okay. It’s just… No one has ever touched them before and it took me by surprise,” Cas replied, his expression shifting back to something softer and less afraid. “I don’t normally feel touch that strongly.”

Dean frowned and looked down at his hands, still rubbing his fingers together at the phantom feeling. It almost felt like he was still touching the rough stone-like texture. “What about your wings?”

“My wings?” They fluttered against his back questioningly, “What about my wings?”

“Can you feel like that with your wings?”

Cas cocked his head and an eyebrow shot up. “I guess, they’re the same kind of feeling I think. Not tied to my… erhm ‘human’ form properly so everything is sharper.”

“So when you touch my neck with your wing?”

“It… You’re skin is so soft there, Dean.”

The affectionate look on Castiel’s face stuns Dean quickly into silence, and so does the wing that stretches towards him. The rough edge grazes against his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his henley and Dean turns his hand over, fingers inquisitive as they gently stroke along the soft inside of wing. 

He watches Castiel’s face as his fingers get bolder, tracing soft patterns against the skin. He watches Cas’s eyelids flutter then drop to give him a drowsy, hooded look, and his eyes glow bright, turning the room a soft blue. The rumbling starts up again as Cas watches him, a purr that vibrates along his wing into Dean's hand and makes his fingers feel fuzzy. 

Dean watches his pointed tongue flick out again from between pointed canines and moisten his lips, and Dean feels a shudder run through his body. His whole body is hot, his hand buzzing as he strokes it further into the wing, stepping forward to follow the curves around Cas’s back. 

Cas just watches him from beneath hooded lids, pupils wide amidst glowing blue and Dean almost startles as a hand lands on his neck. He feels the familiar weakness settle into his legs as the point of a claw traces a line up the side of his scalp and over the outside curve of his ear. 

When Dean is startled into a soft whine Cas growls low in reaction and steps deep into Dean’s personal space. Cas is leaning in when Dean hears the Impala rumble outside and his body locks up. Cas seems to notice because he frowns and leans away, his eyes following the sound of the car before realisation dawns on his face and he sighs. His pupils flatten to slits and the glow deadens, purr stopping abruptly as he leans in and rasps his cheek over Dean's jaw. When Cas gets to his ear he lets out a soft breath and rumbles gently, “Call for me, when Sam is gone.” 

He’s gone by the time Sam walks through the door, leaving Dean shaking and panting like he ran a marathon. Sam takes one look at him, laughs and says, “I really don’t wanna know. Go wash your hands before you touch this food.”

Dean replies with a bitchface of his own before he closes himself in the bathroom. His hands are still shaking, tingles running the length of his arm, a phantom itch over his jaw where his stubble had met Castiel’s. His ear was hot where the dragon's breath had touched it and Dean lifted a hand to rub away the feeling as he turned on the tap. He quickly washed his hands and dried them on the hand towel, giving them an extra rub against his jeans before he left the room and plonked himself down on the shabby couch. 

This motel room was one of the nicer considering its worn appearance. It had a better tv, more stable furniture, and possibly a new mattress. The wallpaper wasn’t an explosion of horrible colour and neither was it bland and torn. It was like someone had managed to make an acceptable motel wallpaper, and Dean didn’t know why all the motels didn’t use it.

Sam had obviously tried to sneak some salad into his burger and after glaring at him until he noticed, Dean ate it anyway. He refused to tell Sam he liked it, the kid didn’t need the encouragement. 


	3. Chapter 3

Days flew past as the brothers traveled. There were more jobs, salt and burns, the occasional heavy hitter. Dean hadn’t seen Castiel in about a week and he was getting worried. The old Cas used to flit in and out whenever he wished, never sticking around for long after a case, but that had changed recently. Cas had grown closer to everyone, Dean especially and not having him around had suddenly become painful in a scratching itch kind of way. 

Though Dean didn’t blame him. Whatever it was that had happened between them the last time they were in a room alone together had spooked him and left him feeling like he was running a constant fever. Every time he remembered how close they had gotten, the feel of velour skin beneath his fingers and burning blue flame it made him shudder. 

Dean hadn’t spent the same amount of time with his hands down his pants since he was a teenager, and even then it had been because of something tangible, not just the image of vertical slit pupils surrounded by a glowing sea of blue. And maybe a flicker of slightly pointed tongue slipped into his thoughts now and again. 

The mirror above the sink misted when Dean turned on the hot tap and he used his hand to wipe it clear. He’d been alone in the motel now for two hours while Sam scoured the local library for information on their latest case and Dean knew that nothing could be done until they had a tangible lead. It meant that he had been left alone with his own thoughts for that long and it hadn’t taken him long to start thinking about Cas, about the last time he had seen him. His parting message had been clear but Dean didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe Cas had decided to stay away until Dean called for him? But what would Castiel do if Dean called. Dean felt that they couldn’t take a step back from this. That this, whatever it was between them, could only move forward. 

Dean's belt slipped free of his waist and he watched himself in the mirror as he tugged down the zipper and palmed himself. He never really liked to acknowledge himself when he did this, finishing quickly and acting as if it was an accident. But his regret and shame had receded, leaving him with something of a clear head in regards to his reactions. 

He had always known something like this would happen with the way Cas looked at him. Those bright eyes had pulled him in quicker than anything ever had and Dean had imagined a room lit by nothing but their light. 

He followed that thought now as his fingers closed around his cock and pulled it out into the cool bathroom air. He was already painfully hard so he gave himself a quick squeeze and let himself settle into the fantasy. The Castiel in his head was already shirtless, wings spread wide and chin held high as Dean looked at him. He had no idea what Cas actually looked like under the trenchcoat but his mind supplied sharp lines and angles to fill the gaps. There were scales everywhere and as Dean watched Cas dropped his suit pants and boxers in one go. 

Dean's hand stroked in long pulls as Cas climbed onto the bed, over Dean's reclined form. His cock hung heavy, the tip smearing against Dean's stomach on the way up his body and Dean hissed in surprised pleasure. Those beautiful black wings spread wide around them, scales glinting in the blue from Castiels positively feral gaze. 

A gasp left his lips as he bucked into his hand, fingers spreading precum down his length as he tightened the grip of his other hand on the cold edge of the sink. The mirror had steamed up again but Dean paid it no attention, too focused on what was in his head. The Cas in his head had flipped him and Dean whined aloud when Cas’s deliciously pointed tongue traced a long line down his spine. 

He knew where this was leading, his mind had taken him here before, but he could feel the pressure building and he didn’t want to stop it. He was panting, his body tightening, his hand moving wetly as if possessed and he gave a final guttural groan before the coil building within him finally snapped. He watched in a kind of detached pleasure as he painted his hand and the mirror in streaks of white, shouldering the flash of disappointment he got as he remembered his fantasy being cut short. 

But for now he had to clean up so he wet some toilet paper and wiped down the mirror, depositing it in the toilet before washing his hands. Despite the Cas in his mind being super hot he was really starting to miss the real thing. So once he pulled himself together and walked back into the motel bedroom, he sat heavily on the edge of a bed and closed his eyes. He’d done this before, and though he didn’t understand the logistics of it calling for Cas always seemed to work. So he focused on the dragon, mentally cataloguing the way he looked, sounded and smelled. 

After ten minutes Dean gave up. Obviously the dragon wasn’t showing and Dean gritted his teeth against the disappointment and distress it caused him. Before Dean had even managed to grab a conciliatory beer Sam loudly pushed his gangly self through the motel door carrying a sasquatch size stack of books. He hadn’t even heard the Impala pulling up outside, too wrapped up in what he had been doing. He frowned to himself. Maybe Sam was the reason Cas hadn’t shown up, Dean hoped. Dean threw a beer to his brother as he popped the cap off of his own, dropping heavily down onto the couch to await what was likely to be a long research session. But Sam put the books down on the table without even glancing at them and flopped heavily down onto his bed. Dean simply watched in amusement as Sam wrestled his large body under the blanket and seemed to knock out instantly. 

Dean laughed and carried on drinking his beer. After the last mouthful he left the bottle on the table as he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside. A breath of fresh air cleared his head and he finalised his plan as he leant against the brick wall adjacent to their room. He focused again on Cas, let the thought of him sink in until he heard the heavy whumpf that signaled the dragon's arrival. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still writing chapter 4 so may be a little while, I'll try to have it up within the week.


	4. Chapter 4

He stayed where he was, casually leaning against the wall while his body roared at him to move. His eyes opened slowly and he gazed at Cas as the dragon for the first time seemed to respect the hunter's personal space. He looked determined but unsure, blue fire in his eyes but pupils thin and wavering. His wings were flexing as though they wanted to arch but were being held back. He looked like he was waiting for something.

Dean lifted his head and watched Cas from beneath his lashes, insides shaking with nerves but mind steeled with determination. He waited a few moments, locked eyes with Cas and then jerked his chin in permission. 

Cas was on him in seconds and Dean was pretty sure he flew. Wings created a shield around the two as Castiel pressed him bodily into the wall, hips pressing forward and seeking pressure as Cas sought Dean's neck with his mouth. The dragon couldn’t stop himself from slipping a thigh between Dean's legs and starting a grind that had Dean whining prettily in his ear. 

The man was delicious and Cas had no idea how he stopped himself from just taking him last time they were this close. He smelled like motor oil, whiskey and sex and the dragon could feel the urge to dominate him welling up inside. He’d already started marking his hunter, leaving reddening marks along the freckled skin of his neck and throat as he grazed his claws gently over Dean's spine. 

He could barely contain his strength, he wanted to mount his hunter and claim him inside and out. His wings shuddered at the thought as he rutted roughly against his catch. The noises Dean was making, soft and high, were doing nothing to lessen his need, especially when Dean had gone almost limp, submissive the instant Cas had touched him. It made something inside him roar in triumph and yet when Dean started moving against him, hips shifting feverishly against his thigh, plush lips smoothing over the scales on his exposed collarbone, Cas almost loses it entirely. Dean is still breathing moans and whimpers over his skin as his hips move faster, with more intent, and Castiel can feel the moment of Dean's release. He feels his hunter go rigid in his arms, shuddering against him for long moments and Cas feels pride swell in him at being the one to cause it. 

His cock throbs as he feels Dean relax against him, breath coming in gasps and pants. Cas smiles as he feels fingers smooth through his hair and his hunter murmur, “Wilder than ever.” He has a split second to register the hands leaving his hair before fingers close around his horns and he groans hoarsely, eyes rolling back as he shudders his way through a powerful, pent up orgasm.

When Cas comes to several seconds later he is panting hard, possessive growl rumbling deep in his throat as Dean watches him from hooded and affection-glazed forest eyes. Castiel couldn’t help the wide, lazy grin that stretched his lips at the sight of a happy Dean. His hunter looked so happy and content, and Cas felt a purr well up in him when he realised it was all because of him. 

He knew that Dean struggled with emotions and hid parts of himself from even his beloved younger brother. Dragging any kind of obvious affection out of the hunter had taken a while, and had felt like forever to a Castiel that was dying to hold him constantly. He had spent forever finding the perfect flowers to symbolise their relationship, showing his wealth by bestowing gifts, and communicating his love via affectionate touches and subtle scent marking. 

Castiel knew the instant everything had changed for Dean, had felt his build lust and confusion every time he was near the hunter. He had a split second to feel guilty for making his precious human confused before Dean pushed him back gently, calloused hands holding the dragon's shoulders. His hunter had a look on his face that made Castiel weak in the knees. 

“So, Cas, you got anywhere to be or will you be sticking around for a while?” The leer that follows up the question, Cas feels, could melt a nun and he finds himself hardening again. 

“Isn’t Sam in your room?” He can’t seem to keep control of his hands as they slowly map out the clothed planes of Dean's body. He doesn’t really want to go into the motel room because he knows how restrained Dean can be around his brother and he really doesn’t want to stop touching Dean's warm skin. 

The hunter is completely relaxed and every now and then he releases a content sigh. “Yeah, but he’s asleep. Plus, you can stick around while I get my four hours.”

Cas smiles softly and nods before flying them into the room and shedding his coats, watching Dean as he dressed down to his underwear and slipped beneath the covers of his queen bed. At a look Castiel slipped out of his shirt and trousers too after toeing off his socks and shoes. He settled on the bed under the lifted quilt, feeling Dean's arm settle around him firmly.

When he started his day he had no idea this was how he would be finishing it. Dean's arm was heavy and secure around his chest, the muscle making Cas feel safe. Dean fell asleep quickly against his side and Cas loved the warmth he could feel radiating through his body from everywhere Dean touched. He closed his eyes and settled into the feeling as sleep settled over him like a fine mist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to extend this without it seeming as though I'm rambling so it'll have to end here. I think it's a sufficiently sweet ending :) 
> 
> Sorry guys, hope you enjoyed it! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please send me feedback!


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